


Catastrophic Damage

by hampop



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, M/M, angstyyy, fic request, male reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:48:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24727741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hampop/pseuds/hampop
Summary: After being spared by Emily Kaldwin, Kirin Jindosh is allowed to live in his mansion and go about his daily life under the constant watchful eye of an assigned bodyguard--you. (Fic request, one shot, angst). Kirin x Male reader!
Relationships: Kirin Jindosh/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	Catastrophic Damage

Kirin had always felt that days passed by like months. Every second grated upon his nerves and fed his anxiety—he never felt like he got enough done in one day. Back before all of this had transpired, he would wake up (if he ever gone to bed in the first place), fix himself a tall cup of honeyed coffee, then get to work. And even back then, with every moment of his day planned and dedicated to being as progressive as possible, he felt like so much of the day dragged by and was wasted. 

Now? Now that he wasn’t allowed to work on anything he deemed interesting? It was like a purgatory of sorts. Sitting around, reading as much as possible, smoking until his lungs turned black, moping, planning his revenge—these were his days now. 

His caretaker—ha! You were more akin to a prison guard— seemed to be around every corner. In the mansion, it was bad enough. Kirin could walk out of a room and you’d be waiting in the hallway; he could barricade himself in a room and, somehow, still feel your presence as if you were hiding in the shadows. He could go out onto the streets of Karnaca all he wanted but you were never too far behind. Sometimes you were even so bold as to stroll alongside him, jokingly offering your arm to him as if you were some valiant gentleman and not just a ruffian Emily had assigned to him. 

And how he loathed the tabloids that were being written. 

_“Genius Inventor Rattled After Visit from The Empress! Who is this Gentleman Accompanying Him Now? A Lover or a Spy?”_

He would have put a bullet through these journalist’s teeth if it weren’t for you and your permanent, ominous gaze. 

All complaints aside, he considered himself fortunate that Emily hadn’t beheaded him like she had done to Luca, Breanna, and Delilah. Having some stranger in his home was a nuisance, yes, but you weren’t as bad as you could have been. And you weren’t hard on the eyes, either.

You were quiet and kept your opinions to yourself. Kirin could poke and prod at you all day long for a reaction and receive only a small, amused smirk in response. Your tolerance was extraordinary; he would test your limits by faking escape attempts or intentionally botching efforts to kill you. With each, you would calmly chuckle and handle them in stride. Once, Kirin had threatened to throw himself off the balcony—Emily had specified that he be kept alive—and you had actually thrown him over your shoulder and carried him away from the ledge, much to his embarrassment and regret. 

Even with his clockwork project halted and his crimes (somewhat) annulled, there were still multiple trained killers who wanted to try to kill him. For spectacle, he assumed. If anything, this whole mess with Delilah had made him even more of a popular target for assassins. He didn’t mind, he took it as a compliment. His house was still a formidable fortress, even if the empress had penetrated it using dark magic. She’d taken out quite a few of his clockworks—all the perfected ones, in fact. His only active one that she allowed him to keep was one that she’d already severely damaged. He kept it in his bedroom, where he would be the most vulnerable.

“And what if I have another ‘house guest’, Empress?” he had asked. 

“That’s why I assigned you a personal guard, Jindosh. So treat him nicely,” she had retorted. 

Apparently, you came well recommended. But Kirin could hardly believe that you were as formidable as his beloved clockworks. He laid awake at night occasionally, paranoid that one of those annoying little rats that tried to traverse the mansion’s maze would find their way to him. And where would you be?

He finally got his answer to this question when he was startled awake one night. Earlier that day, he’d noticed an intruder in the house, but they had fallen silent for several hours and Kirin had assumed they were lost within the walls. Even so, he’d asked you to keep an eye out for the unwanted guest just in case they turned out to be an assassin. You had nodded your head silently and since then, Kirin hadn’t seen or heard from you either. 

Before going to bed, he had looked for you around the mansion. Most nights, before he went to bed, you would tell him goodnight and take your usual position outside his bedroom. The presence of your shadow under the door had become strangely comforting. But you were no where to be found, so he simply turned his lights off and curled up in bed until he fell asleep. 

The noise coming from the balcony sounded like scratching on concrete. He sits up and swings his feet over the side of the bed, reaching blindly for the oil lamp on the nightstand. Before he can think better of it, he instinctively calls out your name. He knew you possessed some magical abilities of your own, though he was unaware what they allowed you to do. Were you out there, in the shadows, just messing with him. Or? 

As the lamp floods the room with a warm yellow light, Kirin blinks to try and adjust his sight. At first, he can only see the silhouette of a figure. He stumbles back, inwardly cursing you for taking away the pistol he kept under his bed. Again, he calls out your name but it becomes clear that this person is not you as they creep forward. 

When they come completely into view at last, Kirin can see that it is a total stranger. Some vagabond with a dagger. And Jindosh finds himself simultaneously impressed that this individual scaled the side of the mansion and terrified that he was standing in front of him. 

The faulty clockwork has yet to come to attention—normally, it would have detected a foreign presence and sprung to action. But this one is so busted up that it only reacts to conflicts. Kirin feared it would be far too late by that point. 

Again, he yells for you. This time, it’s with a twinge of fear and urgency. He can usually feel your lurking presence, but it is gone at the moment. 

“If it’s money you want, you’ll find none in my bedroom. Feel free to search the rest of the house, I won’t stop you.” He’s furious at himself for being so cowardly, but what other choice does he have? 

“Don’t want your money,” says the man, “Just came here to kill you and leave.”

“For fuck’s sake . . . there are easier ways to seek thrills.” He feels sweat start to bead at his brow as the man continues to come closer. 

“But there are harder ways to become legendary,” replies the man, switching the blade from one hand to the other. Kirin gets the gut-feeling like this man is about to lunge and decides to make a brash decision of his own. 

Just as the man lurches forward with his knife, Kirin darts to the side and knocks over the nightstand, causing quite the ruckus. The assassin fumbles for a moment, attempting to slow himself down so that he doesn’t trip and fall over the obstacle in his way. 

In this brief moment of hesitation, the clockwork whirs to live with a worrisome ‘pop!’ and an electrical spark. It, too, stumbles as it comes to life, peering around the room with it’s search light flickering on and off. 

And the clockwork is not the only newcomer to the standoff—you appear as well. Or, really, you were there all along. As if Kirin had been looking right at you, but his mind kept erasing the imagery so rapidly that he never noticed you at all. Black magic was, indeed, an astounding thing. The intruder, too, seems to jump in surprise when you finally decide to show yourself. He’s so startled, in fact, that he responds like a confused wild animal, going toward you with the knife instead. This is no issue; it’s easy for you to dodge the initial swing and grasp his wrist, turning it harshly until he dropped the knife. The man let out a pained yell as you kicked the knife across the room. 

Jindosh had taken a step back to avoid the conflict and, in doing so, had stepped on shards of the broken oil lamp with his bare feet. He cries out in pain and, as a consequence, is the last sound the clockwork heard. Its vision had completely gone out and, in the scuffle, it was responding to sound. When you had kicked the knife across the room, it had begun to move toward it. But as soon as Kirin yelped, it had a new target. 

You notice this almost instantly. You’ve pinned the assassin to the floor and were planning on simply escorting him off the property—Emily had instructed you not to fatally harm anyone. But there was no time for that. Instead, as quickly as you could, you grab the man by the scruff of his hair and slam his head down on the wooden floor, knocking him unconscious and taking him out of the equation. Now your attention could be on the clockwork. 

Why couldn’t you have been graced with the power to bend time, like Corvo? You could only act as quickly as possible with the time you were given. 

In one motion, you pull out your pistol and shove yourself in front of the inventor, pushing him to the ground as the clockwork reared back one of its blades. Focus, adjust your stance, aim for the central headpiece and fir—

The blast of the whale oil bullet is blinding and it disorients you as a sharp pain plunges into your shoulder. 

Kirin watches as the clockwork’s headpiece explodes and the blade arm that it had pierced you with jerks itself out, leaving behind a ribbon of blood in the air as the entire masterpiece short circuits and shuts down. 

It falls to the floor as you do the same and Jindosh wonders, briefly, if it is wrong of him to scramble to your side instead of his creation’s. And yet here he is, pressing his palm down over the bleeding wound to try and stop the flow. You’re grimacing in pain, one of the first times Kirin’s ever seen you express a true emotion, and he can’t seem to look away. 

He’d always enjoyed watching people die. People were never truer to themselves than when they were on the brink of death. But, strangely, he’s mumbling, “Hold on, just hold on.” 

You place a hand on his chest, mirroring Kirin’s hand on your wound. “Are you alright?” you ask through gritted teeth. 

“Barely,” Jindosh retorts. It didn’t sound half as spiteful as he would have liked it to. “You took your sweet time.”

“I was never gone,” you say with a pained smirk. “Just thought I would mess with you a bit. I had it completely under control until that rust bucket woke up.”

Jindosh would have commented upon your statement, but he is too preoccupied with the blood coating his hands in steady pumps. There isn’t an intercom system anymore—there’s hardly anyone on staff to call for help. 

“Don’t die on me,” Jindosh commands, trying to think of how to get you to his operating table with the glass in his feet and the clear size difference between the two of you. You wouldn’t be easy to carry. Maybe you could walk to the lab, but that would take too long and the blood was coming out too quickly. “I was just starting to like you.”

“That’s a little sad to hear,” you mumble. “I’ve always liked you.” Your hand comes up from his chest to softly touch his cheek. 

Jindosh holds his breath and finally comes to a conclusion on this situation. There was no good ending. 

You continue, “Don’t wait around for another caretaker, alright? After I’m gone, get out of this city. I think you’ll be just fine.”

“Hush now,” Jindosh’s hands are shaking, but he’s still applying pressure. “Come on, let’s try to stand up and get to the l—,” 

“Look at me,” you say. Your voice sounds so weak. Kirin had always pictured you as the strong, silent man you were. It felt so strange to hold your body in his arms.   
Though he wished he’d gotten the chance sooner and under better circumstances. 

He finally does as you ask, looking into your calm face. It fills him with regret for all the time he wasted. “Did you mean it? Were you really starting to like me?”

Kirin swallows. He mustn’t falter now. He moves his hands away from the wound in your chest and places both bloody palms to your face, leaning down. “You were tolerable.”

He kisses you softly, tenderly. Like saying goodbye. And he feels your last breath against his lips as he pulls away. Even long after you’ve gone, he sits on the floor and holds you, watching the morning sun come up over the balcony. Truly, one of the finest sights in all of Karnaca.


End file.
